THE 



PLEASURES OE MEMORY 



SAMUEL ROG E RS 




B () S T (J N : 
ROBE R T S . B R O T HERS 

143. WASHINGTON STREET. 



,Y^ 






L O N D IJ N : 

^ R 1 N T E L> BY E U M U .N U EVANS, 

KAQHET LOUKT, FLEET STREET. 



By Transfer 

D. C, Public Library 

FEB 2 6 1938 






Thf. large Illustrations in this volume are produced by a 
new method, without the aid of an engraver ; and some little 
indulgence is asked for them, on the plea of the inexperience 
of the Artists in this process. 

The drawing is made with an etching-needle or any suit- 
able point, upon a glass plate spread with collodion. It is 
then photographed upon a prepared surface of wax, and 
from this surface an electrotype is formed in relief, which is 
printed with the type. By these means the Artists' own 
work is preserved; and though it may be impossible for this 
process to rival the delicacy of a good engraving upon 
wood, yet it can lay claim to an accurate fidelity which can 
only be equalled by etchings upon copper. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Mark yon old Afaitsion, fivwiiiiti^ thrd llw fnvs 
And orp/iau-sorroais c/rac tlic ready tear 
'Jlic taiig'lcd 7vood-iMilk, and the tufted green 
The Gipsy s faggot, tlicrc li'e stood and gas'd 
Jhit hark! third those old frs, loith sullen sioell 
The sinokds blue wreaths aseernlingii'ith the hreeoe 
The hoary grandsire smiles the hours away 
Then did his horse the honiavard track descry 
When der the blasted heath the day declined 
Like yon fair orb, she gilds the bro70 of night 
And the bald veteran gloios with wonted fire 
As the stern grandeur of a Gothic to^oer 
High on exulting wings the heath-cock rose . 
And on the moor the shepherd penii'd his fold 
The wild deer, starting thrd the silent glade 



AKTIST I'ACK 

Samuki, Pai.mkk io 

J. D. Watson 12 

W. S. Cdi.kmax 14 

Alkred Cooter 16 

E. M. WlMl'ERIS 18 

W. S. CuI.EMAN 21 

Charles Green 24 

Alfred Cooper 26 

E. M. WiMl'ERLS 28 

E. M. WiM PERIS 34 

J. D. Watson 40 

1{. M. WiMi'i'-.Ris 43 

J. W. Keyl 45 

E. M. WiMPERTS 47 

J. W. Keyl 50 



THE 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 



ANALYSIS OF THE FIRST PART. 

' I "" 1 1 K I'oem begins with the description of an obscure village, and of 
the pleasing melancholy which it excites on being revisited after a 
long absence. This mixed sensation is an effect of the Memory. From 
an eflect we naturally ascend to the cause; and the subject proposed is 
then unfolded with an investigation of the nature and leading principles 
of this faculty. 

It is evident that our ideas flow in continual succession, and introduce 
each other with a certain degree of regularity. 

They are sometimes excited by sensible objects, and sometimes by an 
internal operation of the mind. Of the former species is most probably 
tlie memory of brutes; and its many sources of pleasure to them, as 
well as to us, are considered in the first part. The latter is the most 
perfect degree of memory, and forms the subject of the second. 

When ideas have any relation whatever, they are attractive of each 
other in the mind; and the perception of any object naturally leads to 
the idea of another, which was comiected with it either in time or place, 
or which can be compared or contrasted with it. Hence arises our 
attachment to inanimate objects; hence also, in some degree, the love 
of our country, and the emotion v/ith which we contemplate the cele- 
brated scenes of antiquity. Hence a picture directs our thoughts to the 



ANALYSIS OF THE FIRST PARI'. 

original : and, as cold and darkness suggest forcibly the ideas of heat 
and light, he, who feels the infirmities of age, dwells most on whatever 
reminds him of the vigour and vivacity of his youth. 

The associatiHg principle, as here employed, is no less conducive to 
virtue than to happiness ; and, as such, it frequently discovers itself in 
the most tumultuous scenes of life. It addresses our finer feelings, and 
gives exercise to every mild and generous propensity. 

Not confined to man, it extends through all animated nature; and its 
effects are peculiarly striking in tlie domestic tribes. 




"T^WILIGHT'S soft dews steal o'er the village-green, 

With magic tints to harmonize the scene. 
StiU'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke, 
When round the ruins of their ancient oak 
The peasants flock'd to hear the minstrel play, 
A.nd games and carols clos'd the busy day. 
Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more 
^Vith treasur'd tales and legendary lore. 
Mi, all are fled ; nor mirth nor music flows 
rb chase the dreams of innocent repose. 
^.11, all are fled ; yet still I linger here ! 
kVhat secret charms this silent spot endear ? 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Mark yon old Mansion, frowning thro' the trees, 
Whose hollow turret woos the whistHng breeze. 
That casement, ai-ch'd with ivy's brownest shade, 
First to these eyes the light of heav'n convey'd. 
The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court. 
Once the calm scene of many a simple sport ; 




When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new. 
And the heart promised what the fancy drew. 

See thro' the fractur'd pediment reveal'd. 
Where moss inlays the rudely sculptur'd shield. 
The martin's old, hereditary nest. 
Long may the ruin spare it's hallow'd guest I 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

As jars the l^inge, what sullen echoes call I 
Oh haste, unfokl the hospitable hall ! 
That hall, where once, in anti(iuated state, 
The chair of justice held the grave debate. 

Now stain'd with dews, with cobwebs darkly hung, 
Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung ; 
When round yon ample board, in due degree, 
We sweeten'd every meal with social glee. 
The heart's light laugh pursued the circling jest; 
And all was sunshine in each little breast. 
'Twas here we chas'd the slipper by the sound ; 
And turn'd the blindfold hero vound and round. 
'Twas here, at eve, we form'd our fairy ring ; 
And Fancy flutter'd on her wildest wing. 
Giants and genii chain'd each wondering ear ; 
And orphan-sorrows drew the ready tear. 
Oft with the babes we wander'd in the wood, 
Or view'd the forest-feats of Robin Hood : 
Oft, fancy-led, at midnight's fearful hour, 
With startling step we scal'd the lonely tower ; 
O'er infant innocence to hang and weep, 
Murder'd by ruflian hands, when smiling in its sleep. 

Ye Household Deities ! whose guardian eye 
Mark'd each pure thought, ere register'd on high ; 
Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground, 
And breathe the soul of Insniration round. 



I'LEASURES OF MEMORY. 

As o'er the dusky furniture I bend, 
Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend. 
The storied arras, source of fond delight, 
With old achievement charms the wilder'd sight ; 




And still, with Heraldry's rich hues imprest, 
On the dim window glows the pictur'd crest. 
The screen unfolds its many-colour'd chart. 
The clock still points its moral to the heart. 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

That faithful monitor 'twas heav'n to hear ! 

When soft it spoke a promis'd pleasure near : 

And has its sober hand, its simple chime, 

Forgot to trace the feather'd feet of Time 1 

That massive beam, with curious carvings wrought, 

Whence the caged linnet sooth'd my pensive thought ; 

Those muskets, cas'd with venerable rust ; 

Those once-lov'd forms, still breathing thro' their dust, 

Still from the frame, in mould gigantic cast, 

Starting to life — all whisper of the past ! 

As thro' the garden's desert paths I rove, 
What fond illusions swarm in every grove ! 
How oft, when purple evening ting'd the west, 
We watch'd the emmet to her grainy nest ; 
Welcom'd the wild-bee home on weary wing. 
Laden with sweets, the choicest of the spring ! 
How oft inscrib'd, with Friendship's votive rhyme, 
The bark now silver'd by the touch of Time ; 
Soar'd in the swing, half pleas'd and half afraid. 
Thro' sister elms that wav'd their summer shade ; 
Or strew'd with crumbs yon root-inwoven seat. 
To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat ! 

Childhood's lov'd group revisits every scene ; 
The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green ! 
Indulgent Memory wakes, and lo, they live ! 
Cloth'd with far softer hues than Light can give. 



I'l.KASUKKS OF MEMORY. 

Thou first, best friend that Heav'n assigns below, 
To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know ; 




i_ 



Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, 
When nature fades, and life forgets to charm 



H 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Thee would the Muse invoke ! — to thee belong 
The sage's precept, and the poet's song. 
What soften'd views thy magic glass reveals, 
When o'er the landscape Time's meek twilight steals ! 
As when in ocean sinks the orb of day, 
Long on the wave reflected lustres play ; 
Thy temper'd gleams of happiness resign'd 
Cllance on the darken'd mirror of the mind. 

The School's lone porch, with reverend mosses gra}^ 
Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay. 
Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn, 
Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn : 
Unheard the shout that rent the noontide air, 
When the slow dial gave a pause to care. 
.Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear,* 
Some little friendship form'd and cherish'd here ! 
And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems 
With golden visions, and romantic dreams ! 

Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz'd 
The Gipsy's faggot — there we stood and gaz'd; 
Gaz'd on her sun-burnt face with silent awe, 
Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw ; 
Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er; 
The drowsy brood that on her back she bore, 
Imps, in the Ijarn with mousing owlet bred, 
From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ; 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 



Whose dark eyes tiash'd thro' locks of blackest shade, 
When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bay'd : — 




, -s* 



->'%«»£^*^=^- *il '##-^ 



And heroes fled the Sibyl's mutter'd call, 
Whose elfm prowess scal'd the orchard-wall. 



16 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, 

And trac'd the line of life with searching view, 

How throbb'd my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears, 

To learn the colour of my future years ! 

Ah, then, what honest triumph flush'd my breast ! 
This truth once known — To bless is to be blest ! 
We led the bending beggar on his way, 
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray) 
Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, 
And on his tale Avith mute attention dwelt. 
As in his scrip we dropt our little store. 
And wept to think that little was no more, 
He breath'd his prayer, " Long may such goodness li\ c ! 
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. 
Angels, when Mercy's mandate wing'd their flight. 
Had stopt to catch new rapture from the sight. 

But hark I thro' those old firs, with sullen swell, 
The church-clock strikes ! ye tender scenes, farewell ! 
It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to trace 
The few fond lines that Time may soon efface. 

On yon gray stone, that fronts the chancel-door. 
Worn smooth by busy feet now seen no more, 
Each eve we shot the marble thro' the ring. 
When the heart danc'd, and life was in its spring ; 
Alas ! unconscious of the kindred earth. 
That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. 

17 c 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

The glow-worm loves her emerald light to shed, 
Where now the sexton rests his hoary head. 
Oft, as he turn'd the greensward with his spade, 
He lectur'd every youth that round him play'd ; 







And, calmly pointing where his fathers lay, 
Rous'd him to rival each, the hero of his day. 

Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush ! while here alone 
I search the records of each mouldering stone. 

i8 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Guides of my life ! Instructors of my youth ! 
Who first unveil'd the hallow'd form of Truth ; 
Whose every word enhghten'd and endear'd ; 
In age belov'd, in poverty rever'd ; 
In Friendship's silent register ye live, 
Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give. 

— But when the sons of peace and pleasure sleep, 
When only Sorrow wakes, and wakes to weep, 
What spells entrance my visionary mind. 
With sighs so sweet, with transports so refin'd l 

Ethereal Power ! whose smile, at noon of night. 
Recalls the far-fled spirit of delight ; 
Instils that musing, melancholy mood. 
Which charms the wise, and elevates the good ; 
Blest Memory, hail ! Oh grant the grateful Muse, 
Her pencil dipt in Nature's living hues. 
To pass the clouds that round thy empire roll. 
And trace its airy precincts in the soul, 

Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain. 
Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain. 
Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise !'' 
Each stamps its image as the other flies ! 
Each, as the various avenues of sense 
Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, 
Brightens or fades ; yet all, with magic art, 
Control the latent fibres of the heart. 

19 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

As studious Prospero's mysterious spell 
Conven'd the subject-spirits to his cell ; 
Each, at thy call, advances or retires. 
As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires. 
Each thrills the seat of sense, that sacred source. 
Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy course. 
And thro' the frame invisibly convey 
The subtle, quick vibrations as they play. 

Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore ; 
From Reason's faintest ray to Newton soar. 
What different spheres to human bliss assign'd ! 
What slow gradations in the scale of mind ! 
Yet mark in each these mystic wonders wrought ; 
Oh mark the sleepless energies of thought ! 

The adventurous boy, that asks his little share, 
And hies from home, with many a gossip's prayer. 
Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more to see 
The dear abode of peace and privacy ; 
And as he turns, the thatch among the trees, 
The smoke's blue wreaths ascending with the breeze. 
The village-common spotted white with sheep, 
The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep ; 
All rouse Reflection's sadly-pleasing train. 
And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again. 

So, when the mild Tupia dar'd explore 
Arts yet untaught, and worlds unknown before, 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 




And, with the sons of Science, woo'd the gale, 
That, rising, swell'd their strange expanse of sail ; 
So, when he breath'd his firm yet fond adieu,*^ 
Borne from his leafy hut, his carv'd canoe, 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

And all his soul best lov'd — such tears he shed, 
While each soft scene of summer-beauty fled ; 
Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast, 
Long watch'd the streaming signal from the mast ; 
Till twilight's dewy tints deceiv'd his eye, 
And fairy forests fring'd the evening sky. 

So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawn'd the day," 
Rose on her couch, and gaz'd her soul away. 
Her eyes had bless'd the beacon's glimmering height, 
That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light ; 
But now the morn with orient hues pourtray'd 
Each castled cliff, and brown monastic shade : 
All touch'd the talisman's resistless spring, 
And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing ! 

Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire,' 
As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. 
And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth. 
Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. 
Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh;^ 
This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. 
For this young Foscari, whose hapless fate*" 
Venice should blush to hear the Muse relate. 
When exile wore his blooming years away, 
To sorrow's long soliloquies a prey. 
When reason, justice, vainly urg'd his cause, 
For this he rous'd her sanguinary laws ; 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Cxlad to return, tho' Hope could grant no more, 
And chains and torture hail'd him to the shore. 

And hence the charm historic scenes impart : 
Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart. 
Aerial forms, in Tempe's classic vale, 
Glance thro' the gloom, and whi.sper in the gale ; 
In wild Vaucluse with love and Laura dwell, 
And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell.' 
'Twas ever thus. As now at Virgil's tomb,"" 
We bless the shade, and bid the verdure bloom : 
So TuLLY paus'd, amid the wrecks of Time,' 
On the rude stone to trace the truth sublime ; 
When at his feet, in honour'd dust disclos'd, 
The immortal Sage of Syracuse repos'd. 
And as his youth in sweet delusion hung. 
Where once a Plato taught, a Pindar sung; 
Who now but meets him musing, when, he roves 
His ruin'd Tusculan's romantic groves? 
In Rome's great forum, who but hears him roll 
His moral thunders o'er the subject soul 1 

And hence that calm delight the portrait gives : 
We gaze on every feature till it lives ! 
Still the fond lover views the absent maid ; 
And the lost friend still lingers in his shade ! 
Say why the pensive widow loves to weep,"' 
When on her knee she rocks her oabe to sleep : 

23 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 




Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace 
The father's features in his infant face. 
The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away, 
Won by the charm of Innocence at play; 



24 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

He bends to meet each artless burst of joy, 
Forgets his age, and acts again the boy. 

What tho' the iron school of War erase 
Each milder virtue, and eacli softer grace ; 
What tho' the fiend's torpedo-toiich arrest 
P^acli gentler, finer impulse of the breast; 
Still shall this active principle preside, 
And wake the tear to Pity's self denied. 

The intrepid Swiss, that guards a foreign shore, 
Condemn'd to climb his mountain-cliffs no more. 
If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild." 
Which on those cliffs his infant hours beguil'd. 
Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise. 
And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs. 

Ask not if courts or camps dissolve the charm : 
Say why Vespasian lov'd his Sabine farm ;" 
Why great Navarre, when France and freedom bled," 
Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed. 
When Diocletian's self-corrected mird 
The imperial fasces of a world resign'd, 
Say why we trace the labours of his spade. 
In calm Salona's philosophic shade. 
Say, when contentious Charles renounc'd a throne, 
To muse with monks unletter'd and unknown. 
What from his soul the parting tribute drew ? 
AMiat claim'd the sorrows of a last adieu i 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY 




The still retreats that sooth'd his tranquil breast, 
Ere grandeur dazzled, and its cares oppress'd. 

Undamp'd by time, the generous Instinct glows, 
Far as Angola's sands, as Zembla's snows ; 
Glows in the tiger's den, the serpent's nest, 
On every form of varied life imprest. 

26 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

The social tribes its choicest influence hail : — 
And, when the drum beats briskly in the gale, 
The war-worn courser charges at the sound, 
Antl with young vigour wheels the pasture round. 

Oft has the aged tenant of the vale 
Lean'd on his staff to lengthen out the tale; 
Oft have his lips the grateful tribute breath'd, 
From sire to son with pious zeal bequeath'd. 
When o'er the blasted heath the day declin'd, 
And on the scath'd oak warr'd the winter-wind; 
\\'hen not a distant taper's twinkling ray 
Gleam'd o'er the furze to light him on his way; 
When not a sheep-bell sooth'd his listening ear, 
And the big rain-drops told the tempest near; 
Then did his horse the homeward track descry,^ 
The track that shunn'd his sad, inquiring eye ; 
And win each wavering purpose to relent, 
With warmth so mild, so gently violent, 
That his charm'd hand the careless rein resign'd, 
And doubts and terrors vanish'd from his mind. 

Recall the traveller, whose alter'd form 
Has borne the buffet of the mountain-storm ; 
And who will first his fond impatience meet? 
His faithful dog's already at his feet I 
Yes, tho' the porter spurn him from the door, 
Tho' all, that knew him, know his face no more, 

27 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, 

With that mute eloquence which passes speech.— 

And see, the master but returns to die ! 

Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly? 

The blasts of heav'n, the drenching dews of earth, 

The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth. 




These, when to guard Misfortune's sacred grave, 
Will firm Fidelity exult to brave. 

Led by what chart, transports the timid dove 
The wreaths of conquest, or the vows of love ? 
Say, thro' the clouds what compass points her flight I 
Monarchs have gaz'd, and nations bless'd the sight. -> 
Pile rocks on rocks, bid woodsL^nd mountains rise, 
Eclipse her native shades, her native skies; — 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

'Tis vain ! thro' Ether's pathless wilds she goes, 
And lights at last where all her cares repose. 

Sweet bird! thy truth shall Harlem's walls attest/ 
And unborn ages consecrate thy nest. 
When, with the silent energy of grief, 
With looks that ask'd, yet dar'd not hope relief, 
Want, with her babes, round generous Valour clung, 
To wring the slow surrender from his tongue, 
'Twas thine to animate her closing eye ; 
Alas ! 'twas thine perchance the first to die, 
Crush'd by her meagre hand, when welcom'd from the sky. 

Hark! the bee winds her small but mellow horn," 
Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn. 
O'er thymy downs she bends her bu.sy course. 
And many a stream allures her to its source. 
'Tis noon, 'tis night. That eye so finely wrought. 
Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought. 
Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind ; 
Its orb so full, its vision so confin'd I 
Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell ? 
Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell? 
\\^ith conscious truth retrace the mazy clue 
Of varied scents, that charm'd her as she fiew I 
Hail, Memory, hail ! thy universal reign 
Guards the least link of Being's glorious chain. 



29 



THE 



PLEASURES OE MEMORY. 



ANALYSIS OF THE SECOND PART. 

npHE Memory has hitherto acted only in subservience to the senses, 
and so far man is not eminently distinguished from other animals : 
but, with respect to man, she has a higher province ; and is often busily 
employed, when excited by no external cause whatever. She preserves, 
for his use, the treasures of art and science, history and i^hilosophy. 
She colours all the prospects of life: for "we can only anticipate the 
future, by concluding what is possible from what is past." On her 
agency depends every effusion of the Fancy, whose boldest effort can 
only compound or transpose, augment or diminish the materials which 
she has collected and retained. 

When the first emotions of despair have subsided, and sorrow has 
softened into melancholy, she amuses with a retrospect of innocent plea- 
sures, and inspires that noble confidence which results from the con- 
sciousness of having acted well. When sleep has suspended the organs 
of sense from their office, she not only supplies the mind with images, 
but assists m their combination. And even in madness itself, when the 
soul is resigned over to the tyranny of a distempered imagination, she 
revives past perceptions, and awakens the train of thought which was 
formerly most familiar. 

Nor are we pleased only with a review of the brighter passages of life. 

31 



ANALYSTS OF THE SECOND PART. 

Events, the most distressing in their immediate consequences, are often 
cherished in lemembrance with a degree of entliusiasm. 

But the world and its occupations give a meclianical impulse to the 
passions, which is not very favourable to the indulgence of this feeling. 
It is in a calm and well-regulated mind that the Memory is most perfect ; 
and solitude is her best sphere of action. With this sentiment is intro- 
duced a Tale, illustrative of her influence in solitude, sickness, and sor- 
row. And the subject having now been considered, so far as it relates 
to man and the animal world, the Poem concludes with a conjecture, 
that superior beings are blest with a noliler exercise of this faculty. 




32 




C WEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, 

Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, 
To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours, 
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers. 

Ages and climes remote to thee impart 
What charms in Genius, and refines in Art; 
Thee, in whose hand the keys of Science dwell, 
The pensive portress of her holy cell ; 
Whose constant vigils chase the chilling damp 
( )blivion steals upon her vestal-lamp. 

The friends of Reason, and the guides of Youth, 
AVhose language breath'd the eloquence of Truth ; 



33 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Whose life, beyond preceptive wisdom, taught 
The great in conduct, and the pure in thought 
These still exist, by thee to Fame consign'd, 
Still speak and act, the models of mankind. 




From thee sweet Hope her airy colouring draws 
And Fancy's flights are subject to thy laws. 
From thee that bosom-spring of rapture flows, 
Which only Virtue, tranquil Virtue knows. 

34 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

When Joy's bright sun has shed his evening ray, 
And Hope's delusive meteors cease to play; 
When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close, 
Still thro' the gloom thy star serenely glows: _ 
Like yon fair orb, she gilds the brow of night 
With the mild magic of reflected light. 

The beauteous maid, that bids the world adieu, 
Oft of that world will snatch a fond review ; 
Oft at the shrine neglect her beads, to trace 
Some social scene, some dear, familiar face, 
^Forgot, when first a father's stern control 
Chas'd the gay visions of her opening soul : 
And ere, with iron tongue, the vesper-bell 
I Bursts thro' the cypress- walk, the convent-cell. 
Oft will her warm and waysvard heart revive, 
To love and joy still tremblingly alive ; 
The whisper'd vow, the chaste caress prolong. 
Weave the light dance and swell the choral song; 
With rapt ear drink the enchanting serenade, 
And, as it melts along the moonlight-glade, 
To each soft note return as soft a sigh. 
And bless the youth that bids her slumbers fly. 

But not till Time has calm'd the ruffled breast. 
Are these fond dreams of happiness confest. 
Not till the rushing winds forget to rave. 
Is Heav'n's sweet smile reflected on the wave. 

35 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

From Guinea's coast pursue the lessening sail, 
And catch the sounds that sadden every gale. 
Tell, if thou canst, the sum of sorrows there ; 
Mark the fixt gaze, the wild and frenzied glare, 
The racks of thought, and freezings of despair ! 
But pause not then — beyond the western wave, 
Go, view the captive barter'd as a slave ! 
Crush'd till his high, heroic spirit bleeds. 
And from his nerveless frame indignantly recedes. 

Yet here, ev'n here, with pleasures long resign'd, 
Lo ! Memory bursts the twilight of the mind : 
Her dear delusions soothe his sinking soul, 
When the rude scourge presumes its base control; 
And o'er Futurity's blank page diffuse 
The full reflection of her vivid hues. 
'Tis but to die, and then, to weep no more. 
Then will he wake on Congo's distant shore ; 
Beneath his plantain's ancient shade, renew 
The simple transports that with freedom flew ; 
Catch the cool breeze that musky Evening blows, 
And quaff the palm's rich nectar as it glows ; 
The oral tale of elder time rehearse, 
And chant the rude, traditionary verse ; 
With those, the lov'd companions of his youth, 
AVhen life was luxury, and friendship truth. 



36 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Ah! why should Virtue dread the frowns of Fate/ 
Hers what no wealth can win, no power create ! 
A little world of clear and cloudless day, 
Nor wreck'd by storms, nor moulder'd by decay; 
A world, with Memory's ceaseless sunshine blest, 
The home of Happiness, an honest breast. 

But most we mark the wonders of her reign, 
When Sleep has lock'd the senses in her chain. 
When sober Judgment has his throne resign'd, 
She smiles away the chaos of the mind ; 
And, as warm Fancy's bright Elysium glows, 
From Her each image springs, each colour flows. 
She is the sacred guest ! the immortal friend I 
Oft seen o'er sleeping Innocence to bend, 
In that dead hour of night to Silence giv'n, 
Whispering seraphic visions of her heav'n. 

When the blithe son of Savoy, journeying round 
With humble wares and pipe of merry sound. 
From his green vale and shelter'd cabin hies, 
And scales the Alps to visit foreign skies ; 
Tho' far below the forked lightnings play. 
And at his feet the thunder dies awa}', 
Oft, in the saddle rudely rock'd to sleep, 
While his mule browses on the dizzy steep, 
With Memory's aid, he sits at home, and sees 
His children sport beneath their native trees, 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

And bends, to hear their cherub-voices call, 
O'er the loud fury of the torrent's fall. 

But can her smile with gloomy Madness dwelll 
Say, can she chase the horrors of his cell? 
Each fiery flight on Frenzy's wing restrain, 
And mould the coinage of the fever'd brain ? 

Pass but that grate, which scarce a gleam supplies. 
There in the dust the wreck of Genius lies ! 
He, whose arresting hand sublimely wrought 
Each bold conception in the sphere of thought; 
And round, in colours of the rainbow, threw 
Forms ever fair, creations ever new! 
But, as he fondly snatch'd the wreath of Fame, 
The spectre Poverty unnerv'd his frame. 
Cold was her grasp, a withering scowl she wore ; 
And Hope's soft energies were felt no more. 
Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art ! " 
From the rude wall what bright ideas start ! 
Ev'n now he claims the amaranthine wreath, 
With scenes that glow, with images that breathe ! 
And whence these scenes, these images, declare. 
Whence but for Her who triumphs o'er despair? 

Awake, arise ! with grateful fervor fraught, 
Go, spring the mine of elevating thought. 
He, who, thro' Nature's various walk, surveys 
The good and fair her faultless line pourtrays ; 

38 



ri.EASURES OF MEMORY. 

Whose mind, profan'd by no unhallovv'd guest, 

Culls from the crowd the purest and the best; 

May range, at will, bright Fancy's golden clime, 

Or, musing, mount where Science sits sublime, 

Or wake the spirit of departed Time. 

Who acts thus wisely, mark the moral muse, 

A blooming Eden in his life reviews ! 

So rich the culture, tho' so small the space. 

Its scanty limits he forgets to trace. 

But the fond fool, when evening shades the sky, 

Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh !-^ 

The weary waste, that lengthen'd as he ran. 

Fades to a blank, and dwindles to a span ! 

Ah ! who can tell the triumphs of the mind, 
By truth illumin'd, and by taste refin'd '? 
When Age has quench'd the eye and clos'd the ear. 
Still nerv'd for action in her native sphere, 
Oft Avill she rise — with searching glance pursue 
Some long-lov'd image vanish'd from her view; 
Dart thro' the deep recesses of the past. 
O'er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast ; 
With giant-grasp fling back the folds of night. 
And snatch the faithless fugitive to light. 

So thro' the grove the impatient mother flies. 
Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries ; 



39 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Till the light leaves the truant boy disclose, 
Long on the wood-moss stretch'd in sweet repose. 







Nor yet to pleasing objects are confin'd 
The silent feasts of the reflecting mind. 
Danger and death a dread delight inspire ; 
And the bald veteran glows with wonted fire, 



40 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

When, richly bronz'd by many a summer-snn, 
He counts his scars, and tells what deeds were done. 
/Do, with old Thames, view Chelsea's glorious pile ; 
And ask the shatter'd hero, whence his smile? 
Go, view the splendid domes of Greenwich — Go, 
And own what raptures from Reflection flow. 

Hail, noblest structures imag'd in the wave ! 
A nation's grateful tribute to- the brave. 
Hail, blest retreats from war and shipwreck, hail ! 
That oft arrest the wondering stranger's sail. 
Long have ye heard the narratives of age. 
The battle's havoc, and the tempest's rage; 
Long have ye known Reflection's genial ray 
Gild the calm close of Valour's various day. 

Time's sombrous touches soon correct the piece, 
Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease : 
A softer tone of light pervades the whole, 
And steals a pensive languor o'er the soul. 

Hast thou thro' Eden's wild-wood vales pursued ^ 
Each mountain-scene, majestically rude; 
To note the sweet simplicity of life. 
Far from the din of Folly's idle strife : 
Nor there awhile, with lifted eye, rever'd 
That modest stone which pious Pembroke rear'd ; 
Which still records, beyond the pencil's power, 
The silent sorrows of a parting hour; 

41 I- 



PLEASURES OF MEMORV. 

Still to the musing pilgrim points the place, 
Her sainted spirit most delights to trace? 

Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride," 
O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sigh'd. 
Thus, thro' the gloom of Shenstone's fairy grove, 
Maria's urn still breathes the voice of love. 

As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower 
Awes us less deeply in its morning hour, 
Than when the shades of Time serenely fall 
On every broken arch and ivied wall ; 
The tender images we love to trace. 
Steal from each year a melancholy grace ! 
And as the sparks of social love expand, 
As the heart opens in a foreign land ; 
And, with a brother's warmth, a brother's smile. 
The stranger greets each native of his isle ; 
So scenes of life, when present and confest. 
Stamp but their bolder features on the breast ; 
Yet not an image, when remotely view'd, 
However trivial, and however rude. 
But wins the heart, and wakes the social sigh, 
With every claim of close affinity ! 

But these pure joys the world can never know ; 
In gentler climes their silver currents flow. 
Oft at the silent, shadowy close of day, 
When the hush'd grove has sung its parting lay ; 

42 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 







itA-y-r- 









\Mien pensive Twilight, in her dusky car, 
Comes slowly on to meet the evening-star : 



43 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Above, below, aerial murmurs swell. 

From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell I 

A thousand nameless rills, that shun the light, 

Stealing soft music on the ear of night. 

So oft the finer movements of the soul. 

That shun the sphere of Pleasure's gay control, 

In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise, 

And breathe their sweet, seraphic harmonies ! 

Once, and domestic annals tell the time, 
(Preserv'd in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime) 
When Nature smil'd, and o'er the landscape threw 
Her richest fragrance, and her brightest hue, 
A blithe and blooming Forester explor'd 
Those loftier scenes Salvator's soul ador'd ; 
The rocky pass half hung with shaggy wood, 
And the cleft oak flung boldly o'er the flood ; 
Nor shunn'd the path, unknown to human tread, 
That downward to the night of caverns led ; 
Some ancient cataract's deserted bed. 

High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose,'' 
And blew his shrill blast o'er perennial snows; 
Ere the rapt youth, recoiling from the roar, 
Gaz'd on the tumbling tide of dread Lodoar ; 
And thro' the rifted cliffs, that scal'd the sky, 
Derwent's clear mirror charm'd his dazzled eye.'' 



44 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Each osier isle, inverted on the wave, 
Thro' morn's gray mist its mehing colours gave ; 
And, o'er the cygnet's haunt, the mantling grove 
Its emerald arch with wild luxuriance wove. 




Light as the breeze that brush'd the orient dew. 
From rock to rock the young adventurer flew ; 
And day's last sunshine slept along the shore, 
When lo, a path the smile of welcome wore. 
Imbowering shrubs with verdure veil'd the sky, 
And on the musk-rose shed a deeper dye ; 

45 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Save when a bright and momentary gleam 

Glanc'd from the white foam of some shelter'd stream. 

O'er the still lake the bell of evening toll'd, 
And on the moor the shepherd penn'd his fold ; 
And on the green hill's side the meteor play'd ; 
When, hark! a voice sung sweetly thro' the shade. 
It ceas'd — yet still in Florio's fancy sung, 
Still on each note his captive spirit hung; 
Till o'er the mead a cool, sequester'd grot 
From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot. _ . 

A crystal water cross'd the pebbled floor, 
And on the front these simple lines it bore : 
Hence away, nor dare intrude! 
In this secret, shadowy cell 
Musing Memory loves to dwell, 
With her sister Solitude. 
Far from the busy world she flies, 
To taste that peace the world denies. 
Entranc'd she sits ; from youth to age, 
Reviewing Life's eventful page; 
And noting, ere they fade away, 
The little lines of yesterday. 
Florio had gain'd a rude and rocky seat. 
When lo, the Genius of this still retreat ! 
Fair was her form — but who can hope to trace 
The pen.sive softness of her angel-face ? 

46 



1 



1 



I'LEASURES OF MEMORY. 



'^'''S&' 



m:^:- 




p^-^<^^^ 



Can Virgil's verse, can Raphael's touch impart 
Those finer features of the feeling heart, 
Those tend'rer tints that shun the careless eye, 
And in the world's contagious climate die? 



47 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

She left the cave, nor mark'd the stranger there ; 
Her pastoral beauty, and her artless air 
Had breath'd a soft enchantment o'er his soul ! 
In every nerve he felt her blest control ! 
What pure and white-wing'd agents of the sky, 
Who rule the springs of sacred sympathy, 
Inform congenial spirits when they meet? 
Sweet is their office, as their natures sweet ! 

Florid, with fearful joy, pursued the maid, 
Till thro' a vista's moonlight-checquer'd shade, 
Where the bat circled, and the rooks repos'd, 
(Their wars suspended, and their councils clos'd) 
An antique mansion burst in awful state, 
A rich vine clustering round the Gothic gate. 
Nor paus'd he there. The master of the scene 
Saw his light step imprint the dewy green ; 
And, slow-advancing, hail'd him as his guest, 
Won by the honest Avarmth his looks express'd. 
He wore the rustic manners of a 'Squire ; 
Age had not quench'd one spark of manly fire ; 
But giant Gout had bound him in her chain, 
And his heart panted for the chase in vain. 

Yet here Remembrance, sweetly-soothing power 
Wing'd with delight Confinement's lingering hour. 
The fox's brush still emulous to wear. 
He scour'd the county in his elbow-chair; 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

And, with view-halloo, rous'd the dreaming hound, 
That rung, by starts, his deep-ton'd music round. 

Long by the paddock's humble pale confin'd. 
His aged hunters cours'd the viewless wind : 
And each, with glowing energy pourtray'd, 
The far-fam'd triumphs of the field display'd ; 
Usurp'd the canvas of the crowded hall, 
And chas'd a line of heroes from the wall. 
There slept the horn each jocund echo knew, 
And many a smile and many a story drew I 
High o'er the hearth his forest-trophies hung, 
And their fantastic branches wildly flung. 
How would he dwell on the vast antlers there ! 
These dash'd the wave, those fann'd the mountain-air. 
All, as they frown'd, unwritten records bore, 
Of gallant feats and festivals of yore. 

But why the tale prolong 1 — His only child, 
His darling Julia on the stranger smil'd. 
Her little arts a fretful sire to please, 
Her gentle gaiety, and native ease 
Had won his soul ; and rapturous Fancy shed 
Her golden lights, and tints of rosy red : 
But ah ! few days had pass'd, ere the bright vision fled 

When evening ting'd the lake's ethereal blue. 
And her deep shades irregularly threw ; 



49 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Tlieir sliifting sail dropt gently from the cove, 
Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove;'' 




^Vhence erst the chanted hymn, the taper'd rite j 
*\mus'd the fisher's solitary night : 



50 



l^LEASURES OF MEMORY. 

And still the mitred window, richly wreath'd, 
A sacred calm thro' the brown foliage breath'd. 

The wild deer, starting thro' the silent glade, 
With fearful gaze their various course survey'd. 
High hung in air the hoary goat reclin'd, 
His streaming beard the sport of every v^^ind ; 
And, while the coot her jet-wing lov'd to lave, 
Rock'd on the bosom of the sleepless wave ; 
The eagle rush'd from Skid daw's purple crest, 
A cloud still brooding o'er her giant-nest. 

And now the moon had dimm'd, with dewy ray, 
The few fine flushes of departing day; 
O'er the wide water's deep serene she hung, 
And her broad lights on every mountain flung ; 
When lo ! a sudden blast the vessel blew," 
And to the surge consign'd the little crew. 
All, all escap'd — but ere the lover bore 
His faint and faded Julia to the shore, 
Her sense had fled ! — Exhausted by the storm, 
A fatal trance hung o'er her pallid form ; 
Her closing eye a trembling lustre fir'd ; 
'Twas life's last spark — it flutter'd and expir'd ! 

The father strew'd his white hairs in the wind, 
Call'd on his child, nor linger'd long behind : 
And Florio liv'd to see the willow wave, 
With many an evening-whisper, o'er their grave. 

51 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Yes, Florio liv'd — and, still of each possest, 
The father cherish' d, and the maid caress'd ! 

For ever would the fond enthusiast rove, 
With Julia's spirit, thro' the shadowy grove ; 
Gaze with delight on every scene she plann'd, 
Kiss every flowret planted by her hand. 
Ah ! still he trac'd her steps along the glade. 
When hazy hues and glimmering lights betray'd 
Half-viewless forms ; still listen'd as the breeze 
Heav'd its deep sobs among the aged trees; 
And at each pause her melting accents caught, 
In sweet delirium of romantic thought ! 
Dear was the grot that shunn'd the blaze of day ; 
She gave its spars to shoot a trembling ray. 
The spring, that bubbled from its inmost cell, 
Murmur'd of Julia's virtues as it fell ; 
And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone, 
In Florio's ear breath'd language not its own. 
Her charm around the enchantress Memory threw, 
A charm that soothes the mind, and sweetens too ! 

But is Her magic only felt below 1 
Say, thro' what brighter realms she bids it flow ; 
To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere,' 
She yields delight but faintly imag'd here : 
All that till now their rapt researches knew, 
Not call'd in slow succession to revicAv ; 

52 



PLEASURES OF MEMOR^■. 

But, as a landscape meets the eye of day, 
At once presented to their glad survey! 

Each scene of bliss reveal'd, since chaos fled, 
And dawning light its dazzling glories spread ; 
Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow'd, 
Since first Creation's choral anthem flow'd ; 
Each ready flight, at Mercy's smile divine. 
To distant worlds that undiscover'd shine ; 
Full on her tablet flings its living rays, 
And all, combin'd, with blest effulgence blaze. 

There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar ; 
No more to part, to mingle tears no more ! 
And, as the softening hand of Time endears 
The joys and sorrows of our infant-years. 
So there the soul, releas'd from human strife. 
Smiles at the little cares and ills of life; 
Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers; 
As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours ! 

Oft may the spirits of the dead descend 
To watch the silent slumbers of a friend 
To hover round his evening-walk unseen, 
And hold sweet converse on the dusky green ; 
To hail the spot where first their friendship grew, 
And heav'n and nature open'd to their view ! 
Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees 
A smiling circle emulous to please : 

53 



PLEASURES OF MEMORV. 

There may these gentle guests dcHght to dwell, 
And bless the scene they lov'd in life so well 

Oh thou ! with whom my heart was wont to share 
From Reason's dawn each pleasure and each care ; 
With whom, alas ! I fondly hop'd to know 
The humble walks of happiness below ; 
If thy blest nature now unites above 
An angel's pity with a brother's love, 
Still o'er my life preserve thy mild control, 
Correct my views, and elevate my soul ; 
Grant me thy peace and purity of mind. 
Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign'd ; 
Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise, 
Whose blameless wishes never aim'd to rise, 
To meet the changes Time and Chance present, 
With modest dignity and calm content. 
When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest, 
Thy meek submission to thy God express'd ; 
When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled, 
A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed 
What to thy soul its glad assurance gave, 
Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave '? 
The sweet Remembrance of unblemish'd youth, 
The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth ! 

Hail, Memory, hail ! in thy exhaustless mine 
From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine ! 

54 



PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 

Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, 
And Place and Time are subject to thy sway! 
Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone ; 
The only pleasures we can call our own. 
Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, 
If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; 
If but a beam of sober Reason play, 
Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! 
But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, 
Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? 
These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight. 
Pour round her path a stream of living light ; 
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest. 
Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! 











NOTES 

ON THE FIRST PART. 



Note a. Page 15, line 15. 
Up springs at every step to claim a tear. 

I CAME to the place of my birth, and cried, "The friends of my 
Youth, where are they?" — And an echo answered, "Where are 
they?" From an Arabic MS. 

Note b. P. 19, 1. 21. 

Aivahe hut one, and lo, what myriads rise ! 
When a traveller, who was surveying the ruins of Rome, expressed 
i desire to possess some relic of its ancient grandeur, Poussin, who 
ittended him, stooped down, and, gathering up a handful of earth 
shining with small grains of porphyry, "Take this home," said he, 
" for your cabinet ; and say boldly, Questa e Roma Antica.^^ 

Note c. P. 20, 1. 22. 
The chirch-yard yews round which his fathers sleep. 
Everyman, like Gulliver in Lilliput, is fastened to some spot of earth, [ 
by the thousand small threads which habit and association are conti- I 
nually stealing over him. Of these, perhaps, one of the strongest is 
here alluded to. 

When the Canadian Indians were once solicited to emigrate, "What!" 
they replied, " shall we say to the bones of our fathers. Arise, and go 
with us into a foreign land?" Hist, des Indes, par Raynal, vi. 21. 

Note d. P. 21, 1. 3. 
.Si;, when he breatJCd his fi7in yet fond adieu. 
See Hawkesworth's Voyages, ii. 181. 
Another very affecting instance of local attachment is related of his 

57 H 



NOTES. 

fellow-countryman Potaveri, who came to Europe with M, de Bougain- 
ville. See Les Jardins, chant ii. 

Note e. P. 22, 1. 7. 

So Scotia'' s Qi(een, <2r-v. 1 

Elle se leve sur son lict, et se met a contempler la France encore, et 
tant qu'elle pent. BrantoME, i. 140. 

Note f. P. 22, 1. 1 5. 
Thtis kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire. 

To an accidental association may be ascribed some of the noblest 
efforts of human genius. The Historian of the Decline and Fall of tl^ 
Roman Empire first conceived his design among the ruins of the Capi- 
tol; and to the tones of a Welsh harp are we indebted for the Bard of 
Gray. Gibbon's Hist. xii. 432. Mem. of Gray, sect. iv. let. 25. 

Note g. P. 22, 1. 19. 
Hence home-felt pleasure, t^c. ,. 

Who can sufficiently admire the affectionate attachment of Plutarch, 
who thus concludes his enumeration of the advantages of a great city to 
men of letters : " As to myself, I live in a little town ; and I choose to 
live there, lest it should become still less." Vit. Dem. 

Note h. P. 22, 1. 21. 
For this you7ig FoscARi, &=c. 

He was suspected of murder, and at Venice suspicion is good evidence. 
Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of con- 
scious innocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on the rack, 
could procure his acquittal. He was banished to the island of Candia 
for life. - 

Biit here his resolution failed him. At such a distance from home he 
could not live ; and, as it was a criminal offence to solicit the intercession 
of any foreign prince, in a fit of despair he addressed a letter to the 
duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose perfidy, he knew, 
would occasion his being remanded a prisoner to Venice. 

58 



NOTES. 

Note i. P. 23, 1. 8. 
And 'watch and weep in Eloisa's cell. 
The Paraclete, founded by Abelard, in Champagne. 

Note k. P. 23, 1. 9. 

' Twos ei'cr thus. As nanj at Virgil's tomb. 

Vows and pilgrimages are not peculiar to the religious enthusiast. 
Silius Italicus performed annual ceremonies on the mountain of Posi- 
lippo; and it was there that Boccaccio, quasi da icn divino estro inspirato, 
resolved to dedicate his life to the muses. 

Note 1. P. 23, 1. 11. 

So TuLLY pans' d amid the zurccks of Time. 

When Cicero was quoestor in Sicily, he discovered the tomb of Archi- 
medes by its mathematical inscription. Tusc. Qujest. v. 3. 

Note m. P. 23, 1. 25. 

Say why the pensive widow loves to weep. 
The influence of the associating principle is finely exemplified in the 
faithful Penelope, when she sheds tears over the bow of Ulysses. 

Od. xxi. 55. 

Note n. P. 25, 1. 11. 

If chance he hears the song so rweetly wild. 

The celebrated Ranz des Vaches; cet air si cheri des Suisses qu'il fut 

defendu sous peine de mort de le jouer dans leurs troupes, parce qu'il 

faisoit fondre en larmes, deserter ou mourir ceux qui I'entendoienl, tant 

il excitoit en eux I'ardent desir de revoir leur pays. Rousseau. 

The maladie de pays is as old as the human heart. Juvenal's little 
cup-bearer 

Suspirat longo non visam tempore matrem, 
Et casulam, et notos tristis desiderat hcedos. 

And the Argive, in the heat of battle, 

Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos. 

59 



NOTES. 






ito^ 



^- 



Note o. P. 25, 1. 1 6. 

Say wJiy Vespasian loz'\i his Sabine farui. 

This emperor, according to Suetonius, constantly passed the summer 
in a small villa near Reate, where he was born, and to which he would 
never add any embellishment ; nc quid scilicet ociilonim consiietudini 
deperiret. SuET. in Vit. Vesp. cap. ii. 

A similar instance occurs in the life of the venerable Pertinax, as 
related by J. Capitolinus. Posteaquam in Liguriam venit, multis agris 
coemptis, tabernam paternam, maiiaUe forma priorc, infinitis sedificiis 
circundedit. Hist. August. 54. 

And it is said of Cardinal Richelieu, that, when he built his magnifi- 
cent palace on the site of the old family chateau at Richelieu, he sacrificed 
its symmetry to preserve the room in which he was born. 

Mem. de Mile, de Montpensier, i. 27. 

An attachment of this nature is generally the characteristic of a bene- 
volent mind ; and a long acquaintance with the world cannot always 
extinguish it. 

"To a friend," says John Duke of Buckingham, " I will expose my 
weakness : I am oftener missing a pretty gallery in the old house I pulled 
down, than pleased with a saloon which I built in its stead, though a 
thousand times better in all respects." See his Letter to the D. of Sh. 

This is the language of the heart ; and will remind the reader of that 
good-humoured remark in one of Pope's letters — " I should hardly care 
to have an old post pulled up, that I remembered ever since I was Sa 
child." Pope's Works, viii. 151. 

Nor did the Poet feel the charm more forcibly than his Editor, S 
Hurd's Life of Warburton, 51, 99. 

The elegant author of Telemachus has illustrated this subject, with 
equal fancy and feeling, in the story of Alibee, Persan. 

i 
Note p. P. 25, 1. 17. 

Why great Navarre, d^r. 

That amiable and accomplished monarch, Henry the Fourth of Franc^ 
made an excursion from his camp, during the long siege of Laon, to dinp 
at a house in the forest of Folambray; where he had often been regale^ 
when a boy, with fruit, milk, and new cheese ; and in revisiting whidi 
he promised himself great pleasure. Mem. de Sully, ii. 381. 

60 



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